Bad Romance
by Amy Cahill
Summary: Ian Kabra, as you all know, is hopelessly in love with Amy Cahill. So in love that he tries to kidnap her. But what happens when, instead of Amy, he kidnaps Bree Farland, a fellow Lucian who despises him? This is the sory of a bad romance. Ian/OC.
1. Chapter 1

Bad Romance

Fury and Mix-ups

Ian Kabra's POV

This was probably my fault. No, it wasn't _probably_ my fault. It was my fault. Sitting across from me, instead of Amy Cahill, the lovely, jade eyed, stuttering angel, was Bree Farland. A beautiful, resilient, cold-as-ice hearted Lucian. Her eyes, not a warm jade color, but a stony emerald. Her face had no freckles, while Amy had a few on the bridge of her nose.

A similarity- and a difference, to be exact- was when both of them smiled (For Bree, so rarely). It was beauty itself. But Bree had dimples. Amy did not. Bree had a presence. You knew when she entered a room, and when she left. Amy was quiet, but seemed to speak with her eyes. Bree loved irony, unless it happened to her. A factor we shared, along with loving books, and hating polyester. Both could not dance. At all. Bree only stuttered a bit, as normal people did sometimes. She was absolutely livid when she found out she had been kidnapped. By _Ian Kabra_. It's strange, most girls would KILL (Literally.) to be kidnapped by myself. But of course, _she _had to have the exact same shade of red-brown hair that Amy did. And she had to hate me.

I mean, just because of some of my 'constructive critism', that her Mum and Dad shouldn't try to pass dirt off as make up. I know her parents are archaeologists, but _really._ When meeting an aristocratic group (such as the Kabra's), they should try to clean up a bit. But no, there the Farlands stood, Bree in a black dress, with a _ribbon_ tying her hair up, the picture of innocence, with a blank expression on her face, and her parents dripping mud all over the Lucian headquarters. My parents were fuming. When I had told her that, she said nothing, but slapped me across the face. Then she had stormed off, scowling.

But I disregard. Now, staring at the furious girl in front of me, perhaps I should explain how she got on _my_ private jet to London.

* * *

3 Hours Previous

I ran through the crowd at the Tokyo airport(A/N is that even_ real_?), trying to keep up with the Cahills, whom I could sense, knew I was following them. Suddenly, as Amy and Dan ran ahead, a crowd of _bloody _toursts walked _so _slowly in front of me, talking all the way. By the time they passed, the Cahills were nowhere in sight. I swore, loudly, and walked angrily, passing many boutiques. I scowled. This was pointless!

Then I located a bookstore. Perhaps Amy, who was a known bookworm, would be in there _without _her brother, who hated any type of writing, unless it was about _Ninjas _( Imagine! The very idea... I still shudder to think about it.)

Sure enough, a red-brown haired girl, who had her back turned to me, was standing, _The DaVinci Code_ (A/N If you have not read this book, you must! It is AMAZING!) in her hands. I silently walked towards her, until I was right behind her. I took out a handkerchief from my back pocket, and held it in front of her face. She fell back, into my waiting arms. I smirked. I picked her up, placing the book in her limp arms, and tossed 10,000 yen (About $100) onto the counter, mouthing "Keep the Change."

Then I turned my attention back to Amy. I brushed a stray strand of hair from her face. A soft smile graced her lovely face. I never noticed she had dimples. Intresting, she was not as plain as Natalie so often said she was.

I walked confidently to the private gate that Natalie and I often waited at for our jet. Once inside, I bound Amy's arms and put a piece of duct tape over her mouth. Everything was going according to plan.

At least, until she woke up. We were on the jet by then. Her eyes were drowsy, but they flared alive when she saw me. She started to rock her chair back and forth.

"Shh, love. It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you." I murmured, stroking her hair.

She screamed, muffled by the duct tape.

I smiled, and removed the duct tape. I pressed my lips firmly against hers. Her eyes widened,then closed. I smirked. The Kabra charm always worked.

Or so I thought. As I pulled away, she kicked upward. Right _there. _I groaned and fell to my knees. Why did she have to have such good aim?

"W-where am I? Kabra! Why did y-you just kiss me? I mean, not that I didn't enjoy it... I mean not that I _did_ enjoy it.." Bree stammered. She seemed a bit flustered, as she normally did not stutter. Wait. Bree. Not Amy. Bree Farland. Crap.

* * *

I hope you enjoyed the story. It's my first Ian/OC. In it, I'm debating on either putting Amy with Hamilton, or Amy with Kurt. Your choice.

I'll update (hopefully) soon. For Choice, I have an idea, and the chapter should be up in a week or so. You guys (and girls) are awesome. Ian's Blog should be up maybe in about 2 weeks, Peace, Love,and...Hate? in May (MAYbe. Yeah, bad pun...I know.) 39 Clues: PUNK'D I just updated (well, technically 13Mysterious12 wrote the chap, so I can't take credit) and I'm sorry to say that my story Cahill IMing was deleted by this website. *sighs*. If you don't like the story, sorry! It just came to me. Oh, and please don't say, "IAN/AMY FOREVER!" or "I HATE BREE!" Or even "I HATE THIS STORY. A LOT!" I write like 10 other Ian/Amy stories! I just wanted to try out a different pairing (I HATE Kurt, and I can't see Hamilton/ Amy together. ) Oh, and Bree does NOT have a stutter. She was just surprised, confused, and angry. Bree IS NOT a copy of Amy. Or Natalie. She's just Bree Farland. So yeah... Please Review.

~Amy


	2. Twisted

Bad Romance

Twisted

A/N OMG!!!! I got 9 reviews for one chapter!!!! That's totally sick!(Awesome) Thanks!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~-Bad Romance: Twisted-~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bree's POV

Ugh, have you ever felt like the world around you was crumbling? If you have, then you must know how furious I am. Not furious, actually. Absolutely freaking livid. If not... such envy I feel for you. You have all the luck in the world. I have none. I was kidnapped. By someone who was _definitely _not on my top 10 list. In fact, the whole lot of them. Kabras, Ha! More like cobras. Hmm, I should write that down, it's brilliant.

Anyways, I was kidnapped by Ian Damon (more like Demon) Kabra. A rich, snobby jerk. To be honest, a rich, snobby, _gorgeous,_ jerk. Handsome or not, he was infuriating, and I loathed him. To me, he only had two good qualities:

1. He's hot. Like really, _really_ hot.

2. He's a genius, like most Lucians.

Considering those, I might as well say his bad qualities:

1. He's egotistical

2. He's snobby

3. He's a jerk

4. He's a spoiled brat

5. He's _still _afraid of his mother

6....

As I reflected on the sixth, my eyes stung and my insides burned with hate. _He insulted my parents. _My parents. My _late_ parents. I loved them so much. They had perished, by unknown causes. My guess is that it had something to do with the Cahill family. Lucians or not, I swore I'd find out someday. And I'd make them pay. Or I'd die trying.

I unconsciously stroked my silver locket. Not one of those _exceptionally _cheesy heart ones with "BFF!" or "Friends 4EVER!" or even a smiley flower. I flinched. Pink smiley flowers. People think they're cute... I think they're stupid, and potentially deadly. Mine was made of real silver, and had a rose carved into it. Inside was a picture of me and my birthparents. Not my foster parents, who were archeologists, but my birthparents. Isabella and Arrow. My mother, Isabella, had beautiful green eyes, and long red brown hair with tanned skin. I had gotten my green eyes and hair from her. My father, Arrow, had pale skin. black hair, and black eyes. We weren't your typical American family. Father was a Lucian spy from Romania. I had gotten my pale white skin, somewhat Romanian accent, and presence, (though not as great as my father's). Even though my eyes were green, they were slightly tinged with black. A trait I had inherited from my father, whose eyes were dark and intense. My mother was also a spy, from Italy. And I was the researcher, who posed as an 'innocent wittle girl'.

I was dragged out of my reprieve when someone sat across from. Speak of the devil...

Ian smiled wearily at me. "Bree... I-"

"Shut up, _Cobra_." I snarled.

He gaped at me. 'How did you- Never mind... Bree, look I'm... uh, well I'm s-s-" he was shuddering_ and _stuttering at the same time. Huh, too bad I don't have my phone. If I did...hello Youtube!

"Sorry?" I supplied. He nodded, grateful.

"Too bad. Apology _not _accepted." I leaned back and smirked at his shocked expression.

He snapped out of his daze, and gave me his most dazzling smile. I knew something was up instantly.

"Bree... come on. You can't hold a grudge against me, can you?"

I looked him dead in the eye and sneered. "Wanna bet?" Our noses were touching; we were so close.

He leaned back and ran a hand through his flawless black hair. "You are a puzzle to me."

I smiled, slightly though. "Everyone is a puzzle... You just need to solve it." I murmured cryptically.

He frowned, his eyebrows creasing. "Butler! Can you come here, _now?_" He called. Oh My Gosh. They had a _butler _on a PLANE?!?! Stupid rich people. No one _else_ has butlers on planes! Actually… No… sorry….. They do.

A man with gray hair and blue eyes walked up to Ian. He made a groaning sound before asking, "Yes, Mr. Kabra?"

"Bring us some coffee. An iced latte for me. Bree?" He looked coolly at me.

"Decaf, thank you."

Ian glanced at the older man looming near by. "Make sure her coffee has _extra sugar_ in it."

I frowned, but shrugged. Maybe wealthy people put emphasis on _sugar_. I wasn't rich. So whatever.

The butler nodded and silently walked off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~-Bad Romance: Twisted-~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few awkward minutes later, we were handed our coffees by a different man.

"To... ah, your health." Ian smirked.

"And to yours as well."

We toasted, and he drank his coffee. I glanced inside my cup, looking at the brown liquid. Wait... sort of bubbly, oily substance on top, sharper smell than decaf (I knew this because for the past 2 years, since I was 12, I had drunk decaf). This coffee wasn't normal...it was poisoned!

Angrily, I stood up. "You know, Ian... I think you deserve more heath. To you." I tilted the cup and spilt the poisoned coffee on him. I walked away. The last thing I heard was Ian wailing about his $100,000 Armani shirt and $200,000 Ralph Lauren Pants. (A/N I always thought Ian would be a Ralph Lauren person.). I soon broke out into a run. I saw a door labeled 'Bathroom' I dashed towards it, but I waited until I was in the airplane's bathroom to start sobbing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~-Bad Romance: Twisted-~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

How did you like it? I felt REALLY bad for Bree, and I hoped this was the typical Ian. What do you think?

Review, Flame, Whatever! I want to hear what you have to say! Also… do you think I need a beta? Tell me what you think. Thanks a lot.

You guys are totally BEAST! (Beast= FREAKING AWESOME),

Amy Cahill

P.S. Scroll Down. You'll find out how bored I was today. JK! But seriously. Please scroll down.

P.P.S After you see that, look for a green button. If you click it, it gives out cookies.

P.P.P.S. Just Kidding. It gives out _virtual_ cookies, though!

Bad Romance© is a Fanfiction of The 39 Clues©. While Ms. Cahill does not own The 39 Clues© or Fanfiction , she does own Bad Romance© All Rights Reserved. Copyright 2010-2010.


	3. Misery Loves Company

Bad Romance

Misery Loves COmpany

Hey! So, yah, I'm updating. I don't really want to update my other story, Choice, yet, 'cause it's kinda suspenseful…. Plus I haven't written a chapter yet. So I'm updating this one! On the subject of updating, I FINALLY UPDATED CHOICE! So, PLEASE, Read and REVIEW! Oh, and if you're wondering about the title, there are 2 reasons behind it:

1. It's my favorite song by the female singer Emilie Autumn,

2. …. You have to READ!

So….read! Now. Really.

!$%^$%^$^&%&*^(&(&)%&*^%$#$%^&*()*&^%$##$%^&*

Ian's POV

I groaned as I looked around the plane for Bree. _Fantastic, Ian. The only girl to EVER not care how you look **and** slap you across the face, not to mention to be an extremely smart Lucian… and you try to_ _POISON __her! It seems you hurt every BLOODY girl you meet, doesn't it? _I thought furiously. I walked swiftly around the plane, not wanting to damage my perfect coif. I quickened my pace to a jog, passing by the plane's 35 inch flat screen television, the library, and a rather large mirror.

Well, maybe not the mirror. I paused in front of it, checked my hair (perfect as always), and flashed myself a perfect smile. Then I resumed my walk, slowing it down a bit. What? I didn't want to mess up my hair. You understand.

I passed the kitchen, the lounge , and was about to pass the bathroom, until I heard a choked sob, then silence. I walked up to the door, and knocked softly.

"Bree? It's Ian." I murmured.

"Go to hell." I heard her snap.

"Bree…. I'm…." I couldn't suppress a gasp for air, and then began to hold my throat, trying to free my suppressed trachea,, trying to get in at least a breath.

I heard a mirthless laugh from the other side of the door. "What's wrong? Cobras can't say it? Or maybe they're too scared to. Either way, you still suck, you whining little pri-"

I cut her off, knowing that if she started cursing at me, she wouldn't be able to stop. How did I know? I had the same problem with Alana Flores. Horrid woman, just ghastly.

"Bree, I ap-ap-apologize." It kind of hurt to say it. No, really. It did.

No answer.

"Bree?" I called out tentatively.

Suddenly, the door opened, slamming hard into the wall on the left, chipping the ocean blue paint. I flinched, but said nothing.

"Do you know why I'm so pissed off at you, Kabra?" She snarled. I opened my mouth, but she beat me to it, not giving me even a second to speak.

"You insulted my parents. My _late _parents." She hissed.

She took a breath, and I took the time in which she did to quickly ask. "The archaeologists died? Oh, Bree, I'm terribly-"

She cut me off again. "No, Ian. My parents weren't archaeologists. They were spies." She took out a silver locket that had been hidden under her shirt, and showed it to me. It showed a beautiful woman with red-brown hair and green eyes . Her skin was naturally tan, and glowed in the sun. She was laughing, with an arm around a handsome man with black hair and dark eyes, and whose skin, even in the obviously burning heat was pale. In the middle there was a younger, happier version of Bree, her green eyes glowing with joy, and a huge smile on her face. She couldn't have been older than six in the picture.

Bree sighed, and closed the locket. "M-my parents…. died from unknown causes. The people you thought were my parents-the archaeologists- are my foster parents." She chuckled darkly. "They aren't such fantastic parents." She beckoned me towards one of our leather loveseats and sat down, I next to her. She rolled up her jeans to her knees and pushed the sleeves of her shirt. I stared in horror at the raw red scars on her arms- obviously freshly made- and the white, yet still horrifying, scars on her legs.

"You-You mean that they-"

She smiled , a trace of pain on her now tired face. "Yeah. My foster parents, well, you know them as Melissa and Jack, abused me. Sometimes they used knives… other time they didn't…" She trailed off.

I forced myself to ask the next question. "H-how did they know about-"

"About the Cahills?"

I nodded silently.

"Ah… well technically they are Cahills. Very distant, but yes, they are Lucians, so that's why I and them aren't dead. Sometimes I wish _I_ was though." She said bitterly.

I opened my mouth, but was interrupted by the pilot over the plane's intercom.

"Lady and Gentlemen, we'll be landing in London in about 5 minutes. I hope you had a good flight… and uh, please don't fire me Mr. Kabra." He said nervously.

I sighed. "Bree…I need to ask you something…. "

-BAD ROMANCE!-

I flinched as the plane began to land. My hair was _so _not perfect anymore. I held Bree's hand in mine. and flashed her a smile. She glared at me and snatched herhand , I grabbed her hand back, and shot her a look. She groaned, and turned away from me. In a few minutes, the plane had landed and we were getting out. We walked out of the airport. The limo came in a few minutes, and we got in. The ride was only about 25 minutes, and we were both anxious.

"So you remember the plan?" I muttered.

She nodded. "Wait… why am I doing this again?"

I chuckled. "Well, because I'm giving you a free ticket to Fiji, and my mother needs to believe that- " I was cut off, as the limo stopped and the driver announced we were at my home. As we got out, I couldn't help, though it was not gentleman behavior, but laugh out loud as Bree's jaw dropped, letting out an audible gasp, as she saw my family's mansion for the first time.

I took her arm, and said we should probably go inside. Practically dragging her along , we entered the arched doorway leading into the mansion.

A servant came up to us. "Ah, Mr. Kabra, should I tell your mother that you are here", glaring at Bree, he continued, "with an, er, guest?"

I nodded. "Yes, thank you, Marcellus."

We stood awkwardly there, until Mother came out.

"Ian." She said boredly. "Oh and Ms. Farland. How do you fare? Why are you here?"

"Fine, thank you, Mrs. Kabra." Bree murmured, averting her green eyes from my mother's dark, cold ones.

I smiled. "Mother, Bree is here because… we're, um, dating."

My mother's stood straighter, her eyes widening then narrowing, she turned to Bree.

"Really? And why do you think _you _are good enough to be date a person of the Kabra bloodline?" My mother sneered. I flinched.

"Mother, please-"

Bree cut me off. "No, it's all right Ian. " She turned to my mother. "Well, because my parents were extremely rich. Not to mention, I'm a Romanian princess. Well, I'm in the royal bloodline anyways. Anyways, My name is Bree Antanasia Farland, and I don't think I'm good enough to date Ian. I know I am." Bree finished. Mother's face was bright red. She opened her mouth, but I spoke faster than her.

"Uh, Bree, Maybe I should show you to your room now." I smiled nervously, silently begging that she'd agree..

"Kay." Smiling sweetly my mother, she waved, wiggling her fingers tauntingly.

In Bree's room I glared at her, while she smiled innocently at me.

"What the _bloody hell_ was that for?" I snarled.

"What? I was just acting the way I was raised." She smirked, silently mocking me with her eyes.

I groaned, then sighed. "I am much too tired to deal with this right now. Good Night."

Bree grinned. "All right. But Ian…"

I looked up. "Yes?"

"Two Things. One: It's 3 P.M. It's not night. Two…" She stifled a giggle.

"_What_?"

"Your hair…. It's kind of… well, to put it nicely… screwed up."

I moaned in exasperation, then slammed her door. I could hear her laughter echo through the halls.

When I reached my room I checked a mirror, and shrieked. My hair was, as Bree had put it, screwed up.

The next day Bree came in my room to ask if I had taken a black backpack from her. I realized I had, and gave it to her. She thanked me and rushed to her room.

A few minutes later I heard loud rock music playing, with a male screaming unintelligible lyrics. I ran to her doorway to see a stereo blasting music as she made strange motions, that Americans classified as 'air-guitar'. She then began to bring her head up and down, her long hair becoming messier each time she swung her head. I quietly chuckled at her dancing, and closed the door, deciding not to bring it up at breakfast later today.

$$#(%&$(&$&(#P%P(&$%&%*%&%$%%(&%)&%$()&%

I FINISHED ANOTHER CHAPTER! YAY!

So review, comment subscribe, flame, whatever!

Love Ya,

Amy


End file.
